Merlin's Ring

by H. Warner Munn

  He forgot his doubts and fortunate lapse of memory concerning the events of the artificial night. This was another day in a far different world from that he was accustomed to. The sooner he accomplished Merlin’s errand and returned to his own world, the better.

  It seemed the Queen was of the same mind. She beckoned him forward to a seat a little lower than her own. Sir Huon and the Prince remained standing.

  “May I inspect your ring, Sir Hawk?” she asked. Her tone was musical and golden, and reminiscent of another’s. With a pang Gwalchmai suddenly recalled that Corenice was still waiting with Flann at the entrance to the barrow they could not enter.

  He had already spent too much time hi Elveron.

  He placed his hand upon the arm of the throne and Queen Crede closely examined the ring. She sighed.

  “Ah, yes. It is my dear friend’s ring. He told me once that if ever I saw it upon another man’s finger, it would be because he was no more. Did he really find the Land of the Dead, which so obsessed him?”

  “Every human finds that land eventually, Your Highness, but whether it was what he sought or where he expected it to be, I cannot say. I only know that I think I have seen hini not so long ago, and I fancy that he told me of things I must do. Some of these I have already done and I believe you know what those are as well as I. Is it not so?”

  “It is so. And I know also what you have else to do and we will aid you as best we can, but there are certain difficulties in your way and of these you shall now be appraised. Pray attend me, my Lords of Elveron, and do you likewise come, Sir Hawk, for I would show you a thing.”

  There were no stairs hi the castle. Ladies in fine gowns of costly worth cannot glide in stately manner when ascending or descending steps, however wide the treads or low the risers, even though such be made of fine marble or polished wood.

  So to properly form the setting for his lady love, the dead King of Elfland had commissioned his architect to design a castle in which she and her ladies-in-waiting would be the principal jewels. Thus it was that all the many floors were joined by ramps along which, to the admiration of those who watched, these darlings grandly swept—fully conscious of the eyes upon them.

  Up these ramps the four went, to the very end of all, and so came out Upon the windy walk that led roundabout the crenelated parapets. Here always a watch was kept, looking out across broad Elfland’s marches, the walls manned with elfin archers.

  Gwalchmai had not seen such a brave array of alert bowmen since leaving his father’s capital city of Miapan so long ago.

  He admired their well-kept gear. They snapped to attention as their beloved Queen passed in review. The little party moved slowly on.

  A fabulous land stretched out beyond-the walls, beneath the dome of glowing mist. Now that Gwalchmai understood his own dimensions, he recognized from this eminence that the forest was composed of grass and flowers instead of trees. But such flowers—and such a bewilderment of f antas-ticlife!

  As broad as lakes, the pools from a recent rain shone sapphire in the clear air, reflecting iridescent wings that swooped above them. Dragons, or dragonflies? They could have been either. Gwalchmai saw them as both at once. Which to his eyes was truth? Which was illusion?

  Strange animals grazed, feeding upon herbage that was grass to them, microscopically minute to us. Small deer, in-deedl Cornutely horned and cusped, they swung their heads and browsed. Like impala, they leaped enormous distance as they ran and played. To Gwalchmai, looking upon them, it seemed a happy world.

  But there were dreads there, as everywhere. Octopoid creatures—scaled, hairy, fanged—stalked the herbivores. Gwalchmai saw these also feed. Spiders—or mantichores? They were lion-bodied, human-headed. One of them might have been eight-legged Sleipnir—Odin’s Death Horse—pasturing here in these green fields.

  Yonder slid a glossy, furtive thing. Was it basilisk or cockatrice? Perhaps it was only an inchworm, measuring its distance with rhythmic humps? Then why did the herd go thundering away in fear if this was so?

  Huon exclaimed and pointed. A beautiful creature stood near the water, snuffing the air with flared nostrils. It arched its graceful neck, dipped low and drank without fear. Gwalchmai had seen unicorns in pictures, but white ones only—never one so satin black.

  “We wul hunt him later,” said the Queen. “Look farther, Sir Hawk, at your destined journey.”

  Immeasurably far away, the land took on a look of somber desolation. Here, miles to the north, the green of healthy growth had vanished. Gwalchmai thought he could see the continuing forest, but it was gray and not a healthy hue. It was the color of blight and decay. Near it he could detect no sign of life, neither within the edge of this desert, which swept away in a long curve, nor within the circle it enclosed.

  “The Blasted Heath!” said the Queen. “In its center lies Arthur’s sword, which you have come to take away. Right glad we are that you are here, for yonder you see the mischief it has done to Elveron and the price we have paid for our friendship to Merlin. This is what cold iron does when it touches the Land of Faery!”

  8

  ‘The Hunt for the Unicorn

  “When- Sir Bedwyiv Imperator Arthur’s most trusted knight, threw only Excalibur’s scabbard into the mere, Merlin meant to lay the sword, which was thus preserved, with his King in the hidden place you have been told how to find. However, knowing that it would not be wielded for many long centuries, until it be time for the Hoped-For-One to rise and unite all peoples of British blood and so end the final war, the Enchanter changed his mind.

  “Sir Bedwyr had begged him for the sword to keep, as a symbol he could show to the Cymry. He knew that they would fight to the death behind a leader who wielded it against the Saxons. Merlin granted his wish, upon condition that when Sir Bedwyr knew himself hard on death, he should bring it hither lest other men, less worthy, should carry it and it be lost before the time of need.

  “All his life Sir Bedwyr fought the Saxons and those stoutly defended Cambrian hills were never conquered. But all men die, and when Sir Bedwyr felt that his time was upon him, he brought Excalibur to us, and for love of our friend we made a waste of half our land.

  “Raise your eyes higher to the north, Sir Hawk. Do you see where beyond the Heath a sable blot smudges our sky? Beneath it lies the evil boundary of the dwergar folk. Here they need not tunnel, for all is darkness, which they love as does their Lord Oduarpa, who plots to extend his dominions against us. Although they too fear the Heath, they count it as part of their spreading empire.

  “From it they raid by tunneling and we cannot reach them, because the light with which we line our tunnel walls will not last to carry us into tkat great distance and bring us back unharmed. Therefore, they are nearer to us than we can be to them and though we ride to hunt and till our fields and visit our pleasances and capture what joy we can— as you see, we are embattled.”

  Gwalchmai said, “Have you not thought of seeking another home? A place where the dwergar do not dwell? A country where the Lord of the Dark Face has no power?”

  Queen Crede looked pensive. “Such a thought lies heavy upon us. We love our home. In our way, we love mankind. They crowd us and endanger us with their carelessness, but they are such a bumbling, clumsy, unseeing people. Such an awkward, amusing folk!

  “We do not know how we can live away from them. Yet, in the end, they will drive us away or kill us, for -they leave us no room. I fear when we are gone they will know too late what they have lost forever.

  “We have selected another planet where it will be safe for us. We could leave at any time, yet we linger, for men need us more than they realize and we shall miss them sore. Huon, sing that song you wrote. Perhaps it will explain how we feel.”

  Huon was nothing loath. He unslung his cithern and began:

  In this savage world of ours

  There soon will be no elves hi flowers.

  Pixies, nixies, dryads, gnomes,

  All must leave for other homes />
  On a cleaner planet—a brighter star.

  There is no iron on Astophar.

  Sylphs find no mirror in limpid springs, Just cast-off trash and duty things. Smoke fouls the air for gauzy pinions In every one of Man’s dominions. Aeolus chokes in fumes so strong And war disturbs the siren’s song.

  Where Aphrodite rose from foam, Man’s refuse fouls the mermaid’s home. Naiad and Undine pine and sigh

  For pollution slew the Lorelei.

  No plain for centaurs, no copse for Pan!

  We must seek a better plan!

  Men—leave us a little room, I pray, You will need us so much more some day!

  Gwalchmai echoed softly, “We will need you more some day. Yes, my Queen, for I shall be honored if I may call you so—and you will remain as Queen, in my heart, when my eyes are blinded to you again—we need you now. We will always need you. All men, however harsh and mad and cruelly unthinking, need something precious and lovely to prize and hold secret. Something to nurture the soul lest it die. You fay are our last sweet delicate thing on earth. If you go forever, you leave us to a world of drabness^and horror.

  “Can you not stay with us, somewhere? Just a little longer, so that more of us will have a memory that they might never know except in dream? Some, even now, think that all dreamers are a little mad.”

  Queen Crede laid her hand on Gwalchmai’s arm. Her eyes were misted.

  “Almost you make me reconsider. Sir Hawk, where can we go? There is no safe place for us. This is the last redoubt for a people so frail as we. Our principalities have fallen to the enemy or lie drowned under the sea. I will not deceive you. I have no suzerainty elsewhere. When this dome of light fails us we must flit or perish.”

  “Why do you not go to your cousins in Alata? There is no iron used there.”

  “No iron? Tell us of Alata! Where is that land? We have heard of no such cousins!”

  Thus the chorus of voices-so high, so hopeful that for a moment the grim bowmen forgot their duty and glanced around at the group whose rejoicing Gwalchmai had inspired.

  Loudly enough, then, so that the nearest of the sentinels could hear and spread the joyful news down the line, he told them of Alata. He spoke of the little red men, no larger than they, who dwell in the canebrakes of the Catawba and hunt gnats with bow and arrow; of the puk-wud-jees of the will not last to carry us into that great distance and bring us back unharmed. Therefore, they are nearer to us than we can be to them and though we ride to hunt and till our fields and visit our pleasances and capture what joy we can— as you see, we are embattled.“

  Gwalchmai said, “Have you not thought of seeking another home? A place where the dwergar do not dwell? A country where the Lord of the Dark Face has no power?”

  Queen Crede looked pensive. “Such a thought lies heavy upon us. We love our home. In our way, we love mankind. They crowd us and endanger us with their carelessness, but they are such a bumbling, clumsy, unseeing people. Such an awkward, amusing folk!

  “We do not know how we can live away from them. Yet, in the end, they will drive us away or kill us, for .they leave us no room. I fear when we are gone they will know too late what they have lost forever.

  “We have selected another planet where it will be safe for us. We could leave at any time, yet we linger, for men need us more than they realize and we shall miss them sore. Huon, sing that song you wrote. Perhaps it will explain how we feel.”

  Huon was nothing loath. He unslung his cithern and began:

  In this savage world of ours

  There soon will be no elves in flowers.

  Pixies, nixies, dryads, gnomes,

  All must leave for other homes

  On a cleaner planet—a brighter star.

  There is no iron on Astophar.

  Sylphs find no mirror in limpid springs, Just cast-off trash and dirty things. Smoke fouls the air for gauzy pinions In every one of Man’s dominions. Aeolus chokes in fumes so strong And war disturbs the siren’s song.

  Where Aphrodite rose from foam, Man’s refuse fouls the mermaid’s home. Naiad and Undine pine and sigh

  For pollution slew the Lorelei

  No plain for centaurs, no copse for Pan!

  We must seek a better plan!

  Men—leave us a little room, I pray, You will need us so much more some day!

  Gwalchmai echoed softly, “We will need you more some day. Yes, my Queen, for I shaU be honored if I may call you so—and you will remain as Queen, in my heart, when my eyes are blinded to you again—we need you now. We will always need you. All men, however harsh and mad and cruelly unthinking, need something precious and lovely to prize and hold secret. Something to nurture the soul lest it die. You fay are our last sweet delicate thing on earth. If you go forever, you leave us to a world of drabness^md horror.

  “Can you not stay with us, somewhere? Just a IMe longer, so that more of us will have a memory that they might never know except in dream? Some, even now, think that all dreamers are a little mad.”

  Queen Crede laid her hand on Gwalchmai’s arm. Her eyes were misted.

  “Almost you make me reconsider. Sir Hawk, where can we go? There is no safe place for us. This is the last redoubt for a people so frail as we. Our principalities have fallen to the enemy or lie drowned under the sea. I will not deceive you. I have no suzerainty elsewhere. When this dome of light fails us we must flit or perish.”

  “Why do you not go to your cousins hi Alata? There is no iron used there.”

  “No iron? Tell us of Alata! Where is that land? We have heard of no such cousins!”

  Thus the chorus of voices so high, so hopeful that for a moment the grim bowmen forgot their duty and glanced around at the group whose rejoicing Gwalchmai had inspired.

  Loudly enough, then, so that the nearest of the sentinels could hear and spread the joyful news down the line, he told them of Alata. He spoke of the little red men, no larger than they, who dwell hi the canebrakes of the Catawba and hunt gnats with bow and arrow; of the puk-wud-jees of the

  Ho-den-o-saunee, Merlin’s own nation, who delight in playing tricks and so must be kin to elves, and whom the Noualli —the Aztec magicians—use as messengers.

  “Oh, the Pooka! We know them!” exclaimed the Queen, clapping her hands delightedly.

  “It may be that he speaks of Puck, my Lady Queen,” suggested Huon. “He has been absent from the court for long.”

  “Yes, we have missed his pranks. We must call him back. Go on, Sir Hawk.”

  “We have dancing circles in our land, as you do here, Queen Crede, and in them the Mikamwes frolic in the moonlight. Our people have seen them dancing in their feathers and paint, to the tune of their nutshell drums. Except for color of skin, they might be your brothers and sisters.

  “As for the fay, who are winged like you, we have them too. They live in the forests and are as mischievous and lovable to our folk as men here have found you to be. We call them the Mamagwasewug!”

  “What heavy names!” said Prince Auberon. “I marvel that they dance or fly, carrying suck a load.”

  “I am sure I should never have tried to learn,” indolently remarked Huon. He gave a weary but elegant shudder at the thought

  “Ah, yes!” The Queen made a little moue, and laughed. “We all know what a lazy fellow you are, Sir Huon.”

  “It seems we do have cousins in your strange land,” said the Prince. “It seems also that they are warlike. Do you think they would be friendly toward us?”

  “I know of no red men who have not been friendly unless they have been mistreated and I think the little folk have the same ways. I do not believe that they would cause you any trouble. It comes to me that they would wish you well and welcome you home—if you will make Alata your home.”

  Huon laughed. “You make this land sound mightily attractive, Sir Hawk. I should like to see it, but this is my home and if all the rest flit, I shall stay here. I love to wander and I worship my Queen, but Sir Periton and I made a pact long ag
o. Whatever comes, even if the dwergar win and these castle walls go down in thunder, we mean to live out our lives in lands we know—and die there in our time.”

  “We shall regret leaving..you both, Sir Huon,” said the Queen. “We know you twain are inseparable, but you will be lonely if all the lesser people of the skies should go to our friend’s country. Even so, that far place may not be safe for us long.

  “There was a time when men did not use iron here. There will come a day when the red men will use it. Then there is no other haven for us but Astophar. You should come with us now and leave Man’s World when we do. Prevail upon Sir Periton, I beg you.”

  “That will be a grand flitting if all go! No kobolds in their mines; no nixies or-nymphs in their seas and streams; no sylphs or dryads playing together in their forests; none of us to tease them and tie their horses’ manes in knots! Ah, no, my Queen! They will need someone to plague them. Men should get their minds off being men once in a while. Sir Periton and I will have much to do. We shall stay whatever befalls.”

  “So be it then. We shall consult the Councp of Elves, but I think the matter is settled. I am weary of the dwergar and their ugly plotting. It is time we sought new pleasances.”

  Huon pointed outward over the battlements.

  “Then let us have one last outing together before all is decided. Let us go to hunt the unicorn!”

  The magnificent beast was now grazing near‘ the pool where he had drunk. He was six-legged, as were the elvish steeds, but he was huge. His horn had a spiral twist and was the only thing about him that was white. It glistened like pearl in the warm light of the cloud dome and now and again he dug it into the ground, flinging clods of dirt over his shoulders, either in play or with the object of-dislodging some stinging pest. After this he would fall to feeding again with zest, as though the exercise gave him added appetite.

  He was still there when the hunting party rode out. A paqk of large red hounds, six-legged also, held on leash by the whippers-in, strained to take the lead, tugging their attendants along in their wake. Next came the Master of the Hounds, carrying his trumpet, which he had not yet sounded. Then the ladies and gentlemen to the number of thirty-odd, mounted upon heavy, but swift, destriers and lighter palfreys. Following them came an equal number of mounted bowmen and lancers, on cobs, piebalds, and skewbalds—a motley group without order or style, but as hard-bitten a crowd of troopers as any Gwalchmai tad ever seen, either in Elfdom or Man’s World. A dozen armored knights brought up the rear and, viewing them, Gwalchmai thought, Let the dwergar cornel